Author 




Title 



Class ./r:.j» ,3^..a/.. 



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PAN IN AMBUSH 



A Piny in One Act 



By MARJORIE PATTERSON 




VAGABOND PLAYS— No. 3 



I 



m 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

A Play in One Act 



BY 

MARJORIE PATTERSON 
i) 



The Norman, Remington Company 

Baltimore 

1921 






Manuscript registered in Copyright office April ISth, 1920 



Copyrighted February, 1921, 
BY The Norman, Remington Co. 



Jlii. -SI92I \U 



Published by special arrangement with Mr. Norman Lee Swartout 

The Professional and Amateur Stage rights on this play are strictly reserved. 

Application for permission to produce it should be made to Mr. Norman Lee 

Swartout, Summit, N. J. 

©CI.D 57905 



"Wtj 



First produced in the United States at the Vaga- 
bond Theatre, Thursday evening, March 7th, 1918. 

The Faun Adele Gutman Nathan 

The Poet Charles Ernest Wallace 

The Schoolmistress Florence Stieff 

The Botany Teacher Clapham Murray, Jr. 

First Pupil Louise Talbot 

Second Pupil Therese Strother 

Third Pupil Cecelia Harvey Coale 



SCENE 

A lovely old garden run wild L, A sundial and a 
bench where the Poet is discovered trying to read. 
Books are scattered around him, R, A young Faun 
either in the fork of a tree or in the shadow of a bu^h 
is mending his pipes. The house is an old manor 
house at back. Door R, In backcloth. One feels the 
influence of noon. The garden is suffused with sun 
and seems to steam with the scent of lilacs and helio- 
trope, R, A Bower, 



CHARACTERS 



A Poet 
A Schoolmistress 
A Botany Teacher 

First Pupil VICTORIA 

Second Pupil CAROLINE 

Third Pupil GERTRUDE 

A Faun (Supposed to be invisible to 
other characters). 

Period of the play: A day that is past. 

Time: High noon. 

Place: An old-fashioned garden somewhere in Eng- 
land where the roses bloom early. 



DESCRIPTION OF THE CHARACTERS 



The Poet — A man of imagination, aspirations and 
appetites. Black velvet coat, lavender trousers 
strapped under the instep. Pretentiously dis- 
ordered hair ; general resemblance to Alfred de 

MUSSET. 

The Schoolmistress — Typical old maid. She wears 
a flowered crinoline, a cashmere shawl; a pork 
pie hat and mittens and carries a butterfly net. 

The Botany Teacher — A character resembling the 
comic curate in Gilbert's "Bab Ballads," clad 
in sepulchral black, a broad-brimmed hat and 
black gloves several sizes too large ; a magnify- 
ing glass and a box containing floral specimens, 
make up his equipment. 

The First Pupil — A young girl just realizing the 
promise and wonder ef life. 

The Second Pupil Two preternaturally ingenue 

The Third Pupil girls in their early teens. 

The Three School-girls are dressed in white mus- 
lin crinolines. They wear poke bonnets, pan- 
talettes, white stockings and black sandal shoes. 
The First Pupil has a pale blue belt and a pale 
blue parasol. The Second Pupil a pink belt 
and pink parasol. The Third Pupil a violet 
belt and violet parasol. 

The Faun — A healthy young animal. 

{Invisible and inaudible to other characters,) 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

POET 

Books, magic books, divine consolers, 

Enchanted pages that while away 
Half my anguish, half my longing. 

Help, potent books, throughout this livelong day ! 

FAUN 
Oh swallow, swallow, swift- winged swallow! 

Far-travelled swallow that cleaves the spray ! 
Love and laughter and golden sunshine 

And long, long dreams : these bring in the May ! 
I'll mend my pipe, Fll play and the valley — 

All the valley shall ring again ! 
Frogs shall sing — and the gnats — in chorus, 

And two-legged animals, called men. 
With fang, horn, hoof Fll sport by the river, 
Pipe up echoes over the hill 1 

POET 

Sick, sick heart, why do you tremble? 
Obstinate heart, grow cold and still ! 
Cease to beat — ^you must forget her ! 

FAUN 

ril dance the echoes up over the hill, 

Fll hide in reeds, when nymphs go bathing. 

Dangle my hoofs in the clear, cool rill. 

Oh, for a field deep, deep with clover 

To roll in the sun — worry a leaf I 

POET 

Spring has come with sun and the swallow 
With Love's own langour and Love's own grief! 
{A pause, he tries to read) 

8 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

POET — (Cont'd) 
This little book, that weighs so lightly in my hand, 
Is full of wisdom. From its dog-leafed page I un- 
derstand 
A woman's heart is nothing — a mere feather 
Dependent on the seasons and the weather ! 
The South wind blows ! She loves you — she's blown 

hither ! 
The North wind blows ! She's gone — ^lost to you and 

blown thither! 
So, under Nature's wild, indomitable sway, 
She's sometimes out of reach — and sometimes flung 
your way! 

FAUN 

(Still working at his pipes) 
Rill pipe ! 
Shrill pipe ! 
Sacred fife of May, 
Win me a fair mate, 
A new one every day ! 
Mermaid ! 
Fur maid! 
Any maid I'll woo. 
Rill pipe ! 
Shrill pipe ! 
Win me someone, do ! 

POET 

The hoary student — he who did this work compile — 
Calls woman fickle, merciless, omnipotent and vile 
Short-legged beast ! Base elemental power ! 
Could I but clasp thy hand, great Schopenhauer ! 
Her voice that lies so well — her sweet voice chaste 
sage, 

9 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

Foments within my breast fierce unmitigated rage. 
Transports me ! Holy rage ! Master, perhaps you too 
Broke from some early love, heartbroken as I do. 

FAUN 

Rill pipe ! 

Shrill pipe ! 

Now that winter's through 

Win me a fair mate 

Any mate vdll do. 

Soft-eyed 

Sylphide! 

By the water-fall 

Naiad ! 

Dryad ! 

Change is best of all ! 

POET 

But here I do forswear her. Yes, thus here and now 
To God's own Firmament, His azure Dome, I make 

this vow ! 
The old love I'll uproot, I'll weed it from my heart 
And live a woman-hater — austere, apart ! 
Through the grass her crinoline shall come no more 
Be-ribboned, fluttering bell of joy, towards my door; 
And — when v/e meet — in her face soberly I'll trace 
The skull! Death's grinning jaws, his stereotyped 

grimace ! 

FAUN 

Rill pipe ! 

Shrill pipe! 

Win me someone, do! 

Get me a fair mate 

A stranger — someone new! 



10 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

Strange kiss ! 

New Bliss! 

Put her to the test 

Surmise ! 

Surprise ! 

New love is best ! 

POET 

(Picks up several of the books and studies them) 
I have the poets here, fond Virgil and easy-going 

Horace, 
And Ovid who did love so often. 

{Throws the books from him) 
No, ril not read them, for their dancing rhythm 
Reminds me of her footfall : 
And their cadence of her soft lingering voice 
When she did love me ! 

FAUN 

It might be wise to ask the gouty Satyr, 

He, whom the nymphs adore. 

It might be well to ask that obscene monster 

What pretty tune he plays when Spring comes in 

That wins him a new love each verdant season. 

POET 

When she did love me — ^f or she loved me once — 

There was no secret in her heart then, no pretence. 
She loved me and she left me for a dunce, 
A dotard, an old man! Oh, woman's joyous, fierce 
inconsequence ! 

FAUN 
His lair is on a hill-side, where the grapes first ripen : 
He bribes the squirrels to bring him nuts and fill his 
granary 



11 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

POET 

But she is venal, marketable — that is her offence. 

She lives by smiles and wiles, false kisses and pre- 
tence ! 

Her flesh is in the scales, to be bought, to be sold ; 

She pawns her body for a piece of gold ! 

Oh God ! When she drew out her amber comb, and 
her dark hair unrolled. 

FAUN 

He knows the roots one must but chew, then spit out 

and not swallow 
Oh, happy Satyr ! 

POET 

(Rises, throiving the hook on the ground, and 

raves about) 

Poems, perfidious poems ! Lyrics, sapphics and the 
rest! 

No, I'll not read you — Vm deaf to you. Your lilting 
in my breast 

Rouses the old enchantment, the first, the primal 
spell 

Eve brought on earth to Adam from the hot depths 
of hell. 

I mean the spell of passion, the spark of Love's de- 
sire 

Of incendiary jealousy, a flame from helFs own fire! 

FAUN 

The toadstool, the puffball and all the fungi 

The spicy forest meat. 

I would I knew 

By Pan's tail, I do — 

What a faun may safely eat. 

12 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

Sweet, choking sweet, to the nose and the eye 
Is the rank pink fungus the oak tree by. 
Oh tears of greed! 
With what panting speed 
rd burrow with head 
With hoofs and with horns 
If I knew what was ed- 
ible under the thorns! 
Bits toothsome in secret Fd quickly devour 
But the poisonous, putrid, the rancid and sour, 
Oh joy! I'd give them to other fauns! 

POET 

(More quietly) 
But in this cloistered garden, where woman comes 

no more, 
I have locked my gate against her, doubly barred 
my door 
Here I, like holy hermit, like Nature's eremite. 
Peruse the rose in daytime and read the stars at 
night. 
Earth ! Universal mother ! Help, comfort and con- 
sole 
A haunted, love-sick creature, a poor hag-ridden 
soul! 
Let me forget, Oh Nature ! Let memory abate ! 

FAUN 

How fussy is the male man, before he gets his mate ! 
Cranes dance when they are wooing, and mating 
birds are gay: 
But man's a tedious biped, when new love's on the 
way! 
(Laughs) 

13 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

POET 

(Stops to listen) 
How sudden, sweet and silver the distant waterfall ! 
Rings shrill, like sylvan laughter or some uncanny 

call! 
This glen's reputed haunted, it is a fairy glade 
Where Pan doth mend his reed pipes, under the 

hawthorne shade. 
Our gross eyes may not see him, but sometimes I 

have felt 
The great god breathing near me, and all my soul 

has knelt! 
He pipes an eerie cadence — three notes played far 

apart. 
The symphony, the chorus of the sad human heart ! 
Sunshine, you do oppress me ! Lilacs, you reek too 

sweet ! 
The leaves quicken their tremor : my heart doubles 
its beat. 
But why? Spring brings me nothing, my life is 
at an end ! 
Print is best, grave books are best : 
(Picks up one of the books) 

my staid, my silent friend ! 
(He sits and tries again to read) 

FAUN 

Have you met the great god, Eros on the wing? 
Has he ever poised beside you in the sing- 

Song and swish of all Creation. 

In the frenzied wild elation, 

The orchestral jubilation 
Of the Spring ! 

14 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

Once I met the great god, Eros, on the wing. 
And he said to me : "Young faun, I've just the thing 
There's no Hamadryad fleeter. 
Oh, I wish that you could meet her 
For you know there's nothing sweeter 
In the Spring !" 

It was time I had a flutter and a fling. 

So I said: "Great Eros, bring her on the wing!" 

Oh, the god was no deceiver. 

Oh, the passion — Oh, the fever! 

Why, I could but barely leave her 
By next Spring! 

POET 

Here is a book that suits me ; here is the ban 
Mahomet put on woman. This mussulman 
Declares a woman has no soul; her lovely eyes 
Once closed in death, open no more in Paradise! 
Exiled with impure beasts, blind earth above, about 

her, 
She rots — but what to me were Paradise without 
her? 

FAUN 
I've made love when the fierce sun has shone, 
Or when the full moon on her throne 
Beamed with all stars together, 
Or when, like a feather 
She has fluttered in ether — alone! 
And the strangest of joys I have known 
But there's one thing, just one 
That I never have done, 
Be the night black as Pluto's own zone, 
There's but one — just one thing — 
Ne'er ate sweet nuts in Spring 



15 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

Fresh nuts when the May was full-blown ! 

(He blows through his pipes hut can as yet get 
no music from them; only a strange bubbling sound 
such as an orchestra makes when tuning,) 

POET 

At times runs a tremor through nature 
A sigh, like a breath through the grasses. 

You'd think now a woman was coming, 
Whispering and rustling she passes ! 

In wake of this stir and this tremor 
Scents quicken. From bush brake and cover 

Breath perfumes; ferns palpitate, tremble, 
As trembles the heart of a lover. 

Moment, tense, sweet, expectant! First love 
Is not sharper! Oh Nature, you hurt! 

Her I feel in your beauty, I hear 
In your sighing the swish of her skirt! 
{The faun plays a few faltering notes,) 

POET 

{Puts his hands over his ears and gabbles off as 
though in prayer.) 

Philosophy ! My chaste, new mistress, let me con 

Thy lover Socrates — or no — this lexicon — 
Or no! Some poet rather, whose verse soars on 
wings, 

{Picks up a book but does not open it yet.) 
Life without love is like a lyre without strings! 

{The Faun plays a few more faltering notes, al- 
ways getting a little further in the cadence,) 

16 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

POET 

(Puts Ms hands over his ears, trying to read.) 
There's rhythm for you ! There's a lyrical outburst ! 

{Relapsing and dreaming ojj again,) 
Yes, yes, it was, I think, in April we met first. 

FAUN 
(Plays again, getting still further in the cadence) 
There's no throb in that trill, it had a pulseless sound. 

POET 

Oh, those dark eyes of hers, where all my soul lies 
drowned ! 

Dear God ! How will it seem to be always alone ? 

(The poet's head sinks between his hands and he 
weeps silently.) 

FAUN 

(At this moment bursts out into a triumphant 
Paean, a volley of notes.) 

By Pan! A sweeter lilt; it had a fuller tone! 

(The voices of tiuo girls sound from over the 
wall.) 

SECOND PUPIL 

Is it here the garden door is? 

THIRD PUPIL 

Yes, it's there! 

SECOND PUPIL 

Here by all these morning glories? 

THIRD PUPIL 

Yes, it's where 

The woodbine and clematis 
Are twined about a lattice 
And bob like dancing lasses at a fair. 



17 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

SECOND PUPIL 

In the garden door a grate is? 

THIRD PUPIL 

Yes, it's there! 

SECOND PUPIL 

Can one see where the far gate is? 

THIRD PUPIL 

Everywhere ! 

SECOND PUPIL 

Look! Tulips stiff as fencers 
When saluting, and censers 
Are the May-boughs perfuming all the air! 

POET 

Oh voice, that first in Eden woke the snake, 
Put hope in the old serpent's heart to break 
The spell of symmetry that held the earth 
Immortal, young and glad! Voice that gave birth 
To all calamity! Trebles that haunt! 
Babble of women ! Hence ! Begone ! Avaunt ! 
{Faun plays.) 

POET 

{Pauses and hesitates.) 
But why, like some rude clown, ungallant fool, 
Ban every crinoline? 'Tis but a school! 
In science name, all I admit, any 
May in my garden study botany. 
And these are children; I can see between 
The lilacs bob each joyous crinoline. 
Love still is masked, wrapped in his cloak to them. 
Supposing that I stayed and spoke to them! 

18 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

But no! Weakness! They have a chaperone. 
Scarce could I say a word to them alone, 
Scarce could I have a word with them in peace, 
Accursed sex! Eggs of the cockatrice! 

(Rushes into house.) 

(The botany teacher enters with the second and 
third pupils. The schoolmistress follows with the 
first pupil.) 

SECOND PUPIL 

WeVe studied mythology, scandals and all! 

THIRD PUPIL 

WeVe rather enjoyed it 

SECOND PUPIL 

There is little to pall 

In the bible when read 
Unexpurged from the Fall. 

BOTANY TEACHER 

Indeed, two most promising girls! 

THIRD PUPIL 

WeVe studied the kings down 
From good old King John. 

SECOND PUPIL 
WeVe read how they behaved. 

THIRD PUPIL 
Also what they had on. 

SECOND PUPIL 

And what wife they suppressed, 
When they had a fad on. 

19 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

BOTANY TEACHER 

Two really remarkable girls! 

THIRD PUPIL 

We've learnt how to curtsey 
And dance at a rout. 

SECOND PUPIL 

And drop a bouquet 

When a young man's about! 

THIRD PUPIL 

And when we've done wrong, 
We have not been found out. 

BOTANY TEACHER 

Two highly superior girls ! 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

(Fluttering forward.) 

Ah! The pretty ringtime! 

Oh ! The balmy springtime ! 
As the swan of Avon — as Mr. Shakespeare said 

Young ladies, turn your toes out, 

Give your crinolines a flout, 
Gertrude, hold your parasol erect above your head! 
Young ladies, the Spring is at its full consummation. 
See Earth's horticultural — her sweet dissipation! 
Prosperpina has passed! A marvelous spectacle! 

BOTANY TEACHER 
(Aside) 
I'll pluck each a posy. No, 'tisn't respectable. 

20 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Indeed, young ladies, believe me, I deeply admire 
In Nature's great scheme how birds, brooks, how 

insects conspire 
'Gainst sloth. Mark how the bee improves each 

shining hour ! 

BOTANY TEACHER 

See ! He buzzes around each promiscuous flower. 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Nota bene, young ladies, there is nothing that grows 
But is perfect — a gem. Now, let us look at that rose. 
Should we not raise our souls in fond praise to the 
Giver? 

BOTANY TEACHER 
(Studying the rose with his magnifying glass) 
Yes, as I thought, she's a rambler, she's a free 
liver ! 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Young ladies, this term 
Do you feel that you're firm 
In what it has been your vocation 
To mark, learn and digest? 
I'll put you now to the test 
With a serious examination. 
(She claps her hands. The girls stand in a roio 
facing her. The first pupil nearest the footlights, 
then the second, then the third) 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

(Briskly) 

Colloquial name for the Stella Gloria? 
Answer me that, if you can, Victoria? 

21 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

FIRST PUPIL 

'Tis just on the tip of my tongue, alas! 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Go at once to the bottom of the class ! 

{The first pupil trips down to the bottom of the 
class. Then the whole class trips up a few steps so 
as to stand where it did before, just facing the 
schoolmistress. Every time a pupil is sent to the 
bottom of the class this same little dance is per^ 
formed identically, while the faun plays a trill. The 
girls stand like rigid dolls, their toes turned out, 
their parasols above their heads. The pupil at the 
head of the class wears a smug expression. The 
other two appear abashed) 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Who fiddled while Rome burnt ? 

THIRD PUPIL 

A dance and song 
Were performed by by 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

(Pointing) 

Go where you belong ! 
{The second pupil trips to the bottom of the class. 
Same business) 

THIRD PUPIL 

{Waving her hand animatedly, eager to speak) 
By a lady in her camisole — but — ^^ 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

By Nero, whose likeness you've seen. Tut, tut. 

22 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

(Points, and the third p^ipil goes to the bottom of 
the class) 

Victoria head of the class again ! 

Do you realize the position you maintain? 

BOTANY TEACHER 

Her responsibility weighs upon her, 
She knows 'tis a precarious honor. 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Now, let us plunge deeper into the past. 
For how many days did the deluge last? 

FIRST PUPIL 

Don't know, teacher, 'twas a prodigious rain. 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Go to the bottom of the class again! 
(The first pupil does so) 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

(Claps her hands. The girls straighten up) 
Ladies, attention! Arithmetic! 
Now, if seven hens in thirteen years 
Laid ninety-two eggs, for it appears 
That the hen is, indeed, prolific! 
If on the Leap Year they laid six more 
How long would it take each hen before 
She laid an omelette? Be specific! 
(The girls are silent. They fidget) 
What, silent? Mute? Drooping heads, cheeks that 
burn? 
Go to the bottom of the class in turn ! 
(They do so) 

23 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

BOTANY TEACHER 

Ma'am, dismiss the class! Sit ladies, do. This 

microscope can 
Dissect agricultural secrets, once sacred to Pan. 

(All sit and study specimens) 

FIRST PUPIL 

Who, teacher, was that great god, Pan, of whom 
the ancients wrote? 

BOTANY TEACHER 

My child, he was a horrid and most unseemly goat ! 

FAUN 

(Springing up, incensed) 
Oh, blasphemy! A shudder runs through Nature! 

Sacrilege! I crouch — I pounce! 
But no — in Pan's offended name, this anathema 
awful I pronounce. 
(Like the imp in the pantomime, with uplifted 
hands he curses the botany teacher, who is of course, 
as is everyone else on the stage, oblivious of him. 
During the curse the botany teacher studies speci- 
mens through his microscope, but gradually he be- 
covies depressed. He rolls his eyes in a sentimental 
fashion. He lays down his microscope and sighs as 
the faun finishes) 

Botanist foolish ! 
Mortal unwary! 

Thou shalt eke out thy days 
In a girls' seminary ! 

Watch primary classes 
To womanhood grow. 

And torments of Tantalus 



24 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

Then thou shalt know. 

To observe these enchanting — 
These feminine charms, 

Ripening for other and 
Masculine arms! 

Though of love horticul- 
tural thou tell the sweet story, 

Yet they'll call thee "old bore" 
In the girls' dormitory! 

Thou shalt dote on the prize 
Model pupil, alas ! 

And prepare floral idylls 
For thy botany class! 

But when thou wouldst speak 
See! Thefair head ishid! 

She swallows a caramel 
Behind her desk lid! 

Though thou strive with rare 
Specimens to enrapture and please 

Yet, the girls shall prefer 
On the flighty trapeze 

With the muscular gym- 
nast to wantonly play, 

Or go out with male cousins 
On the half-holiday: 

Till, maddened, distraught, 
Thou shalt bend to the mighty 

Inexorable yoke 
Of the dread Aphrodite! 

And the plain maiden lady 
Who is now at thy side. 

Thou shalt clasp to thy breast 
As thy middle-aged bride ! 
(Sits down in a huff with his back turned) 



25 



PAN IN AMBUSH 
SCHOOLMISTRESS 

(Snuggling coyly up to the botany teacher) 
Is this the double-petalled Vobilisculam ? 
Or is it a geranium? . 

BOTANY TEACHER 

(With an awful look at her) 

'Tis neither, ma'am! 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Sir! Your looks are wild, your voice has a hollow 
ring. 

BOTANY TEACHER 

Ma'am, Oh ma'am, I dread the influence of the 
Spring ! 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Ah, longing for green fields, dear sir, and pastures 

new? 
In the forest let us botanise, I and you ! 
Gertrude and Caroline! Go, ladies, for a walk! 
Intersperse your chatter with cultivated talk. 
Round the common go, five times in brisk rotation, 
Greet each object with a suitable quotation! 

(Points) 
There, a rare specimen of the spreading chestnut 

stands ; 
Recall the village smith — his large and sinewy 

hands ! 

THE SECOND AND THIRD PUPILS 

(Exit holding each other by the hand and chant- 
ing as they go) 

"Beneath the spreading chestnut ..." 
(The botany teacher starts to follow them) 

26 



PAN IN AMBUSH 
SCHOOLMISTRESS 

(Tol)otany teacher) 

Why are you flitting? 

BOTANY TEACHER 

Merely to suggest quotations that are fitting. 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Come forestward with me, I'll take no denial I 

{Turning to first pupil) 

Ah, Victoria, musing on the sundial ? 

{Goes up to first pupil and reads the motto 07i the 
sundial) 

The motto reads: "Amor solus tempus vincit." 
Translate ; amplify ! 

{The first pupil is silent and hangs her head; 
scrapes with her foot, etc.) 

What, mute ! Fie, ignorant chit ! 
Stay! Peruse this motto! I shall be truly vexed, 
If by dinner time you've not deciphered the text! 

{Is 'about to exit hut notices that the botany 
teacher is not coming) 

But why, sir, do you loiter, do you stay behind? 

BOTANY TEACHER 

To elucidate Latin to the growing mind! 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

No, no, dear sir! Your arm, and come along with 

me! 
{She takes his arm) 

This dear child will join us under the greenwood 
tree. 
But why this rolling eye? Don't you feel quite the 
thing? 

27 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

BOTANY TEACHER 

(In a sepulchral voice) 

Ma'am, ah ma'am, I dread the influence of the 
Spring! 

SCHOOLMISTRESS 

Ah, my mittens, shawl, butterfly net! Pray, sir, 

bring 
My reticule! 

BOTANY TEACHER 

I dread the influence of Spring! 

(The schoolmistress hands the botany teacher all 
her paraphernalia and they exit L, he laden doiun, 
reluctantly looking back at the first pupil) 

(The faun plays) 

FIRST PUPIL 

Black cypresses towering, 

White lilacs a-flowering. 

And scents overpowering 

Whose sweet names I ignore! 

Strange garden where fragrance teems, 

Garden, where it somehow seems 

That in my own secret dreams 
I have strayed here before. 
(The faun plays a short cadence) 
Beauty acute! Oh, sweet tears. 
When the heart beats and the ears 
Ring ! Hush ! Hark ! Listen ! One hears 

The pipes of Arcady ! 
Poppies flame and fulgurate. 
And glow like the rose agate. 
Oh, Fve grown so sad of late, 

Now Fm a young lady. 

28 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

(The faun plays a short cadence) 
Yes, beauty oppresses me, 
And earth's charm distresses me. 
When the breeze caresses me 

From the South, blowing up 
Perfumes of unknown flowers, 
Incense from southern hours ! 
Oh! V/hat satanic pov/ers 

A girl meets growing up ! 
(The faun plays a short cadence) 

FIRST PUPIL 

It's no use to dissemble 
I blush, I pale, I tremble 
As though Fd met the emble- 
matical fiend who, switched 
By God from the Firmament, 
Lurks in music, color, scent! 
I pray by the Sacrament 
That I be not bewitched. 
(Sits down on the bank R of the stage near the 
faun and picks a fioiver) 

FAUN 

(His pipe is finished. He is winding round it a 
hit of ivy) 

There was once a great king's daughter, who grew 
pale. 
And who trembled like a lily in a gale ; 

Nor all the Court physicians, 

Nor cleverest magicians. 

Nor the priests' fervent petitions 
Could avail! 



29 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

She grows pale, the great king's daughter — yet more 
pale, 

And she droops as does a long-becalmed sail. 
The old sages do not know 
That the fiend who plagues her so 
Is Lov«, who beats her with his bow 

For a flail! 

FIRST PUPIL 

(As she speaks the following she pulls the petals 
from the flower and recites like a child, swinging one 
foot and emphasizing the jingle of the verse) 
What will summer, 

Midsummer bring? 
One lover? Two lovers? 

Or in early Spring 
Will a young man court me 

With a wedding ring? 
Or, when snow first 

The cold earth covers 
Shall I have one, two — 

Three — four lovers? 
Or, when leaves sere 

From the forest fall, 
Shall I meet the dearest, 

The only love of all? 
Dark? Fair? 

Short? Tall? 
One lover — two lovers? 
(Disappointed) 

No love at all ! 
(Tryifig to comfort herself) 
I counted the petals, yet the verse works out wrong. 
'Tis but a superstition, a stupid, old-time song! 



30 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

A silly lullaby my nurse has often sung 

In the past to me, years ago, when I was young. 

Tis but foolishness and a childish nursery rhyme! 

(Inconsequently) 

I will try it again, for it did not count last time. 

(She begins again to pull off the petals from an- 
other flower, whispering to herself the while) 

FAUN 
(Comes behind the young girl and whispers to 
her over her shoulder) 
Young girl, oh young girl! 
There's a waltz in the whirl 
Of the pool by the mill. 
Can't the mill-wheel keep still? 
Like the mad heart of Love 
It beats, throbs, while above 
From the bank, willows seem 
Kissing shades in the stream ! 

Youth's but a short sleep, yes, and Love is its dream ! 
Its ecstatic, redoubtable, pulse-shaking dream! 

FIRST PUPIL 

In study time I like to read, when teacher's off her 

guard, 
Dream and look out of window at the recreation 

yard. 
My geography I open, with the map I cover 
The story of a young girl and a young man — her 

lover ; 
More absorbing by far than the coastal line of 

Dover ! 
For study books I feign to look, pens, blotting paper, 

lest 



31 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

Teacher should guess I am remiss, and with my fore- 
head pressed 

Against my desk-lid, opened wide, I read until dis- 
tressed 

By a vague, delicious turmoil, a sort of sweet un- 
rest — 

And then my heart starts softly, softly knocking in 
my breast! 

FAUN 
Young girl, oh young girl! 
When you hear the soft swirl 
And the swish of the breeze 
Through the shimmering trees, 
It brings you a message 
This shuddering presage. 
For it tells you just this — 
What you want — what you miss; 
Faint sweet premonition of Love's long, first kiss! 
Love's tremulous, insatiable, sense-racking kiss! 

FIRST PUPIL 

Teacher says prayers at 9 p. m. and then upstairs 
we go, 

The dormitory looks so staid v/ith white beds in a 
row, 

Kind teacher blows each candle out, she draws the 
curtain rings, 

And lying quiet in the dark, I think of such odd 
things. 

Of a choir boy I've seen in church, who like an angel 
sings. 

And somehow I can't sleep at all, I can't get any rest. 

I creep up to the window, in my nightgown, all un- 
dressed. 



32 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

I like to see the rising moon, or watch her silver 

crests 
Vanish on the horizon when she's setting in the West. 
And then my heart starts softly, softly knocking in 
my breast ! 

FAUN 
Young girl, oh young girl! 
The shy petals unfurl 
Of the secret foxglove 
In the fervour of love! 
'Neath the hot prying sun 
Its leaves part one by one. 
Till its closed heart shall lay 
Bare to kisses of day. 
What can live without love, lass? Coming your 

way — 
Sighing low, breathing quick — love is coming your 
way. 

FIRST PUPIL 

When I'm grown up . . . 
(She hesitates and goes to the dial) 
(The faun squats down where she was sitting) 
. I must read this dial. 
*Amor' I know is 'love.* This Latin, what a trial! 

FAUN 

Women are pretty in their way, 
They have a charm I don't gainsay. 
But I ask you, what's their use? 
Why, a fat, stuffed, Strasbourg goose 
Can run as far as they can in a day! 

Now, in the woods, a pixie, fay — 
Or, in the floods, a nixie may 

33 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

Teach the whirligig of Pan, 

But poor, unexacting man 

Has never joined the fairy jig. Evoe! 

FIRST PUPIL 

Next year I shall waltz, if asked out at all. 
Oh my heart! Oh how 'twill beat at my very first 
ball! 

FAUN 
Oh they talk, these pretty women — how they talk! 
I have watched them on a solitary walk 
As to themselves they gabble. 
And feverishly babble. 
As they tear a daisy's petals from its stalk. 

You may think 1 speak in undiscerning haste, 
But I vow that a mermaid's more to my taste 

Though she's somewhat cold and numb 

At least, half the time she's dumb, 
For the poor girl's half a fish up to the waist. 

FIRST PUPIL 

*Amor' — They say a poet lives here and 
Somehow I think he must be young, pale, heart- 
broken, grand ! 

FAUN 

I admit there's much variety in women, 

For I once saw a girls' Board School go a-swimmin.' 

I was hiding in the laurels, and the pretty little 

sillies 
Came trippin' down like fillies. 
There were chestnuts, bays and sorrels 
And they baulked the waves like fences, 
But they've fads and false pretences, 
And there's some that have got morals I 

34 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

FIRST PUPIL 

'Amoi:' — ^yes, *love.' His elbow must press on 

{Taking up a position) 

The dial thus ! Oh, I wish I had my blue dress on ! 

FAUN 

Give me a genial mad Bacchante 
Who's a very Coryphante 
On her feet, when there's Chianti 
A-running down her throat. 
Whose a-side-stepping, whose side glancing 
Sets all the satyrs prancing 
Rouses capers in each ante- 
diluvian he-goat ! 
(He skips back to his lair) 

POET 

(Enters, He has rearranged his stock, put on a 
neiv ivaistcoat, pomaded his hair and carries a 
dressy grey beaver. He speaks from the steps of 
the house) 
So those school chits are gone ! How still my staid 

monastic garden seems ! 
Void, joyless as the dawn to unloved lovers waken- 
ing from their dreams. 
And what then? Am I sad? But why? 
(Coming down) 

Ah, like swallows on migration 
Some girls have passed. Indomitable heart! Fool- 
ish agitation! 
But look ! There is yet one who stays 
She leans on the old dial and delays. 
O'er the vague moss-grown text is bent 
Her sweet young head in studious wonderment ! 
(Delighted) 



35 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

Philosophy ! Philosophy ! Humbly I crave thy par ^ 

don ! 
But indisputably there is. a woman in my garden! 
A woman ! What does she look like ? How does she 

speak? 
Charm of the unknown face, the half-averted cheek ! 
Touching appeal of girlhood! Palpitant lashes! 
Veiling the eyes of youth ! Deep gaze that abashes ! 
The misanthrope! 
(Beating his breast) 

Poet! Poet! Fool, child thou art! 
What then ? Because one v/oman's versed in sensual 

art 
False — vile — is there no unkissed mouth, no intact 

heart? 

FIRST PUPIL 
{Looking up, startled) 
Oh sir! 

POET 

Oh ma'am! Nay, nay, I prithee, do not start! 

For charity's sweet sake, dear ma'am, resume that 
pose 

And let me look upon you — gaze upon you close, 

While burns this way-worn heart self-consuming in- 
cense. 

Smouldering before the shrine of breathing inno- 
cence. 

Ma'am, I'm a faltering rhymester, nothing more. 

But with immortal longings I adore 

What is immaculate and what is pure. 

In you I see as 'twere the immature 

Promise that breathes when the first swallow's wing 

Grazes the eaves in very early Spring 
The perfect blossom of Spring's coronal ! 

36 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

FIRST PUPIL 

Oh sir, I pray you hush ! 
POET 

Nay, ma'am, you need not blush ! 
A poet's rhapsodies are quite impersonal. 
{Makes a deep ceremonious boiu) 

FIRST PUPIL 

(Curtsies) 

Kind sir, I fear you'll think me a brazen jig, bold- 
faced 

To find me thus unchaperoned. Indeed, sir, I'm 
strait-laced. 

I have the genteel manners of a young girl in her 
teens, 

But teacher bade me stay here, for she asked what 
this means. 

This motto. 1 don't know and I don't know what to 
do, 

So might I make so bold then, kind sir, as to ask 
you? 

POET 

(Translating motto) 
"Only Love triumphs over time !" Trite, but oh, hov/ 

true 
Time will have done his worst with me, I'll be old 

When Love no more can terrorize and harm me. 
In the grave only will beauty leave me cold. 

I shall be dead when women cease to charm me. 

FIRST PUPIL 

Oh sir, you do — ^you really do alarm me I 
37 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

FAUN 
These females know a lover is perverse as their own 

shadows. 
Kun towards him and he flies — -iDut shrink from him 

and he follows. 
Now when a dryad would be kissed, observe she 

starts a-running, 
Then some faun is sure to chase her; dryads are 
very cunning. 

POET 

{To himself) 

Practical I need must be, there is much at stake. 

(To first pupil) 
'Tis your custom, I think, with your schoolmates to 

take 
A brisk constitutional at noon round the lake. 
Now, if o'er the common I cross as you do, 
And spell-bound stand staring at Heaven's deep blue. 
And take off my hat 

(Lifts his hat high) 

as though awed by the view. 
Will your teacher suspect I am bowing to you? 

FIRST PUPIL 

Sir, my teacher is kind, but she's firm and she's set 
In her notions. Yes, teacher will fume and she'll 

fret 
At the least breach of manners of strict etiquette. 
But I'm her prize pupil, she is not too — too — 
Observant of me, so if then at the view 
You take off your hat, while I tie up my shoe 
Would then teacher suspect I am curtseying to you ? 
(Sinks down as though tying her shoe, and so 
drops a deep curtsey) 

38 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

FAUN 

Ah, we're all the same, be we white limbs or old 

bellwethers. 
Now, they call that making love — I call it fuss and 

feathers. 

POET 

Dear ma'am, forgive me pray, if unconventional I 
seem. 

But Fm a child of nature and each poet has his 
dream. 

In this chimeric interview, if my arm enlaced you. 

And bending down, I gently then, but firmly em- 
braced you. 

Now pray don't think me personal, but tell me what 
you'd do? 

FIRST PUPIL 

(Curtseying) 
Kind sir, I'll strive to answer, all untutored as I am. 



POET 

(Bowijig) 

A favourable answer will obleege, dear ma'am. 



FIRST PUPIL 

Kind sir, I fear you'll think me sadly backward for 
my age, 

Though I've read many poets from their first to their 
last page. 

I surmise what I've not felt might rouse my indig- 
nation. 

I might be very angry or blush like a carnation. 

You see I've not been kissed, and I've no imagination. 



39 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

POET 

(Bowing) 
Oh ma'am, you do malign yourself, I vow, I swear 
you do! 

FIRST PUPIL 

(Curtseying) 
You flatter me, kind sir, the facts I state are true. 

FAUN 

(Growing sulky and impatient He thinks this 
love making too formal) 

Now look at them bowing — now look at them scrap- 
ing? 
Now what are they playing at, what are they ape- 
ing? 

POET 

(More and more interested and animated) 
Dear ma'am, another problem — ^this quite hypo- 
thetical. 
Now supposing that I wrote you a note hysterical. 
Offering hand, heart, genius and a brewery that I 
Have lately bought in Dublin, would you leave me 
long to sigh ? 

FIRST PUPIL 

Sir, a written letter deserves a written prompt 
reply. 

POET 

(Boiving) 
Dear ma'am, I must apologize, with lovers you're 
besieged. 

FIRST PUPIL 

(Curtseijing) 
Oh no, dear sir, oh not at all, deeply obleeged. 

40 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

FAUN 

These mortal lovers talk so much, why I can't make 

out! 
Why don't they get on with it, and what's it all 

about? 
They love, why not be natural — jubilant with mirth? 
Why complicate the only sweet perfect thing on 

earth? 

POET 

(Very sentimental) 

Your eyes are of what color ? Blue ? Violet ? Nay, 
sacred grey? 

In compassion's name lift those long lashes — do not 
look away! 

So Laura seemed to Petrarch and so seemed Bea- 
trice to Dante. 

FAUN 
I could do with a bunch of grapes and a sunburnt 

Bacchante, 
Or perhaps a green mermaid effulgent from out of 

the sea 
Would be more to my taste — but really it is all one 

to me. 
Dark groves I know, where pale elves moon-mad 

may be trapped resorting; 
I'll sharpen my horns — make a wreath — ^tune my 

pipe and go courting. 
(The faun now makes his wreath and while he's 
doing so intones the following lyric, while the poet 
plucks the first pupil a nosegay which he gives her 
with a deep bow when the faun has finished his 
verses) 

41 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

FAUN 

Goodman Bacchus, he came 

And he said **It's a shame 
That a young faun should sober be. 
A big goat skin of wine 

Is yours fresh from the vine 
If my worshipper you will be V 

It was: Hie Bacchus! 

It was: Hoc Bacchus! 
Hiccupping came to me, 

But why should I trouble. 

To see the world double? 
And his worshipper Til not be ! 

Dame Venus at random 

Came driving a tandem 
Of doves, and she called to me 

"I from Paphos apace 

Come, for 'tis a disgrace 
That a young faun should mateless be. 

IVe a snug little lair 

And Fve just your affair 
If my worshipper you will be." 

Perfidious Venus! 

Insidious Venus! 
Venus, the Cyprian, came to me. 

Oh I fear your ire 

Fm flax to your fire, 
Venus, your worshipper Fll be! 



POET 
Could woman but be faithful 

42 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

FAUN 

Faithful! I've only heard 
Poor mortal lovers say that. Faithful ! Don't know 
the w^ord. 

POET 
(More and more ardent) 
And methinks she might be faithful, when I gaze 

on you, 
Sweet, white-muslined innocence, encircled with 

pure blue. 
I stand before you humbled, abashed, adoring, 
charmed ! 
{Surprised, his hand on his heart) 
What, blighted, disillusioned heart! Are you not 
dead — embalmed ? 
(Keeps his hand on his heart and consults himself 
in a rhapsody) 

FAUN 
Heart ! Peculiar human word ! But I know what it 

means 
A symbol I've seen carved on the oaks of village 

greens. 
Round like the ring of Eternity, but somewhat bent, 
Hearts are pointed at bottom, with at the top a dent. 

POET 

(Quite transported) 
Blessed romance! Divine Eros! Oh love, flail and 

torch of life ! 
'Tis the old familiar turmoil — Dear ma'am, will you 
be my wife? 

FIRST PUPIL 

This is so — so very sudden! Oh surely 'twould be 
fitter 



43 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

To ask my kind teacher's advice. Oh Fm all of a 
twitter ! 
(They hold hands over the dial, whisper to each 
other; then they are silent) 

FAUN 
(Growing sentimental) 

I came into this garden when the moon was at 
its zenith, 
It was last night — yea, yesternight — ^that I over- 
leapt this wall. 
And my thoughts were full of longing and of 
Love's extreme desire. 
There was not a breeze a-breathing 'neath the star- 
bespangled pall. 

And I saw the flowers standing, pallid, wan with 
tense desire. 
There a far rose loved a rosebud just opening for 
a kiss! 
I forgot my thoughts of courting and blew the 
golden pollen 
Through the still, becalmed garden in the breathless 
night, like this ! 
(He waves his arms and whistles, imitating the 
wind) 

FIRST PUPIL 

There's no wind a-stirring, yet all the leaves tremble, 
Oh, but the world's a wonderful place ! 

POET 

Dear heart ! In our silence do you feel our thoughts 
meet, 

44 



PAN IN AMBUSH 

Suffuse together and embrace? 
(Kisses her) 

FIRST PUPIL 

I have loved you always before I knew you 

With each deep indrawn breath, my lover ! 

POET 

Oh, the time we've lost, would we'd met sooner ! 

May-tide is waning, Spring's almost over. 
(The poet and the first pupil wander into the 
bower R, The faun plays) 

FAUN 

'Twill be a sweet propitious summer. Our benign 

Mother, dear Earth, stretches at ease 
Ah, the kind moon-drenched nights ! Ah, the young 
hearts to be engraved yet on the old oak trees ! 
(He plays as the curtain falls) 



45 



LIDMAMY OF CONGFfESS^ 



018 407 440 



